


Getting Back Up

by Crowgirl



Series: Scars Remind Us [29]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Morning After, Sam POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-22
Updated: 2012-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-31 13:44:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl/pseuds/Crowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ongoing discussion, and ramifications thereof, between Dean and Castiel about the after-effects of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Back Up

XXIX.

Sam can’t remember having a quieter breakfast.

It’s not like Dean’s ever been seriously chatty first thing in the morning’s but this is epic even for him. 

He’s said one word so far since Sam’s come into the kitchen: ‘Coffee?’ And that’s it.

Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table, scooping up the last of his scrambled eggs with a crust of toast and trying to think of a diplomatic way to ask his brother what the hell crawled up his ass and died at 6.30 in the fucking morning when there’s the sound of someone on the stairs and Castiel comes into the kitchen like someone’s chasing him.

He hurtles into the doorway and clutches onto the jamb to keep his feet from skidding out from under him on the slick linoleum. ‘Dean--!’

Sam’s on his feet before he can think, moving to grab Castiel’s arm and keep him from compounding his injuries with a broken nose on the edge of the kitchen table, but the anxiety in Cas’ voice freezes him where he is and he can’t stop himself from looking over at Dean.

Dean is still standing by the kitchen counter, back to the door and to Castiel and he doesn’t turn around. Instead, Sam sees his shoulders jerk and tighten and Dean suddenly looks as though he’s posing for a statue of himself.

‘Dean...?’ Castiel sounds almost plaintive now and when Sam glances back at him, the angel is biting his lower lip hard, a deep crease between his eyebrows. When he realises Sam is looking at him, the signs of distress are suddenly gone and normal Castiel is back, as impassive as always.

‘When do you wish to leave?’ Castiel’s voice is rough, scratchy as it has been since he could finally talk again, but it’s cool and calm. If Sam hadn’t seen the emotion written large on the man’s face only a few seconds ago, he wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong. And now he wants to find something heavy to sit under for awhile because the undercurrents between the two men that are starting to fill the kitchen have sharks in them.

‘Whenever you’re ready.’

If Castiel is back to being impassive, you could use Dean’s voice as a tutorial in uninterested, Sam thinks, looking from one man to the other and trying to figure out what the hell is going on that has made the kitchen feel freezing cold.

‘I will be ready in ten minutes.’

‘Want anything to eat?’

‘No. Thank you.’ Castiel turns and is gone up the stairs.

Dean turns back to the table as the sound of footsteps retreats up the stairs and sets his empty coffee mug down.

Sam would swear his brother’s hand is shaking and, when he looks up, Dean’s so pale he looks sick. He’s got both hands on the back of a chair, fingers wrapped around the wood tight enough to make his knuckles stand out white. ‘You okay?’

‘Fine.’

‘Did you and Cas--’

‘Ten minutes, Sammy. Anything you need, get it in the car.’ Dean picks up the mug again, drops it in the sink, and vanishes out the kitchen door.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Falling," Staind, _The Singles, 1996-2006_.


End file.
